


Not a Victim

by BlankA4



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Distorted Thinking, Domestic Violence, Gen, I forgot dishwasher are a thing in america?, May Parker Has an Abusive Partner (Spider-Man), No beta we die like Uncle Ben, Oneshot, Peter Parker Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27756808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlankA4/pseuds/BlankA4
Summary: Peter was not a victim. He was a lot of things but a victim was not one of them. No, victims didn't fight back. It wasn't abuse if he hits back. So he was okay. He could manage this.My turn to try writing the May has an abusive partner trope. But a little different?Partly inspired by Big Little Lies (2014) by Liane Moriarty, and also Lurafitas author notes? fanfic? writings? rant? I don't know but they made some good points!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Not a Victim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lurafita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurafita/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The wounds we see (And the scars we don't)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17928896) by [Lurafita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurafita/pseuds/Lurafita). 



> Yop, head up this includes distorted thinking, swearing and violence.
> 
> Set after endgame but tony survived, and May got a boyfriend(Kevin).

Not a victim

Peter was not a victim. He was a lot of things but a victim was not one of them. No, victims didn't fight back. It wasn't abuse if he hits back. So he was okay. He could handle this.

It had started with a simple slap. Shock had brought tears to his eyes, and he hardly felt the sting on his cheeks. But Kevin's own shock far outweighed Peter's. Peter could still remember how Kevin's face had turned ashed and how he stumbled back looking at his hand in disbelief. The stuttered apologies and promise never to hurt Peter again; how Kevin had asked if it hurt and wrapped an ice pack in a tea towel to hold to his cheek. The panic on Kevin's face when they heard May's key opening the door. And in that moment Peter had seen the regret in Kevin's eyes, defeated posture, the hopelessness and made a choice. He may not like May's boyfriend much but he made her happy and why should something so childish as a single slap take that from her? So Peter smiled, and told Kevin to forget about it. It was just a one off...

The next time was Peter's fault. Not in a twisted not thinking right self-blame way but genuinely his fault. It was a Sunday and May was working leaving him and Kevin in the flat. Kevin had promised to cook a full Sunday roast for them, a traditional family thing he had said with a laugh. Peter had walked into the kitchen startling the poor man as he was taking a dish out of the oven. Kevin had dropped it, spilling hot oil and potatoes everywhere, one hand throwing out to maintain his balance, knocking Peter against the counter. When Peter had bent down to start cleaning the mess Kevin had shoved him back.

"Careful _boy_ it's hot!" He'd snapped, cuffing his head with a fist.

Annoyed, Peter had snapped back "I know!" Which earned him another shove this time towards the door. It didn't hurt, it didn't mean anything. By the time May got home there were fresh cooked potatoes and neither he nor Kevin brought it up.

The third time was not Peter's fault, nor could he call it a one off. But perhaps an accident. His hand had got caught in the car door. That happens all the time, everyone's done it at least one in their lives. Sure it made using his web slingers tricky, and sure Mr Stark had asked if the suit was malfunctioning but it didn’t stop Peter for long. Sure it might have happened after an argument with Kevin, but it doesn't mean the man meant to. In face Kevin had felt so bad about it that he had taken him and May out the following day. A surprise treat Kevin said. Kevin had even let Peter choose the restaurant, encouraging him to order seconds and thirds for desert. The man clearly didn't hate him. Sure he lost his cool occasionally but only when Peter aggravated him.

The fourth time… Peter didn't have a good reason for. The electricity had cut out in his room; it had been doing that about once a week and normally all it needed was for the trip switch to be flipped back on. Dragging one of the kitchen chairs into the hallway to stand on, Peter reached up to the fuse box and flipped the switch. Plunging the flat into total darkness before everything came back on.

Peter hadn't realised Kevin had been working on the computer at the time. Not until he toppled from the chair, and was pinned against the wall by the man. Not until a fist to the stomach sent him curling in on himself. Not until he had lashed out sending Kevin flying back against the opposite wall, head landing with a sickly thump. The wall red where it made contact.

It was Peter's turn to be horrified. Staring at the man, laying dazed against the wall. Not a stranger, not a criminal but May's boyfriend. Peter froze. He didn't-... He hadn't… he

It was Kevin who got up first, gingerly touching the back of his head. He offers a hand to Peter pulling him to his feet.

"Aren't we a mess?" He said, and all Peter could do was numbly nod.

When May got home, Kevin told her how he tripped over the chair in the dark while Peter was checking the fuse box, knocking them both to the ground- not quite the truth but not far from it. And the icy hand that had been clenching Peter's heart eased. It was okay, Kevin wouldn't tell anybody. No one had to know that Peter had hurt a civilian. And so it continued…

The fifth time, left Peter with finger shape bruises on his arms and Kevin with a scratch on his arm.

The sixth time left Peter with a twisted ankle and Kevin with a bit less hair from where Peter had pulled it.

The seventh time, left Peter throwing up into the loo, and Kevin lying to May.

The 8th time left Peter with a pounding headache and Kevin with a yellow bruise.

At some point it became normal. One week Kevin would lose his cool and lash out only to regret it later and Peter would know he was safe for the rest of the week, better than safe. Sometimes Peter would lash out, or fight back and he could never quite find the line between self-defence and abu-.... something else. These times were worst. Peter would feel as if he was walking on eggshells, knowing he'd hurt Kevin, knowing he was a bad person, trying desperately to make it up to him; to not give him a reason to tell May. Sometimes it was easier to stomp on those eggshells, to get Kevin to hurt him so he wasn't waiting for it, wasn't the bad person.

But it was okay, Peter could handle it. And for all those times he got hurt… well so did Kevin.

\------------------------------------------------------

It was the half-term holiday and May was away visiting friends from her misspent youth or so she said. Peter couldn't remember. In fact there was lots Peter couldn't remember, like when school work had become so difficult, or why his knee hurt, or when he last patrolled, or why he got tired so easily.

He couldn’t remember when things had... no just things? Peter wasn't sure but something was wrong. Peter had gone to bed feeling terrible, he had been walking on eggshells for the better part of the week and just snapped. Kevin had asked him to do the washing up. Nothing hard. Nothing difficult. But Peter had refused. Why? Well he might say because he had homework to do, or he cooked so it wasn't his turn but really he just wanted to stomp on those eggshells.

"No."

“What do you mean no? This. Isn't up for debate.”

“I just don't want to.”

“Oh that makes it so much better,” Kevin said, stepping closer a hand on Peters shoulder, “I don't think you understand, I’m the adult here and I said do the washing up.”

“I’ll do it later, Okay?” Peter said, his tone twisting the ‘okay’ up into an ugly challenge as he twisted out of Kevin's grasp. His spider sense was going off like mad, but Peter had long since started ignoring them. Ever since the snap it has been unreliable, like how the feeling that you're about to sneeze is never a good indication of if you're going to sneeze in the next few seconds or maybe just the next month.

“No, not okay.” Kevin ran a hand through his hair, “God Peter I don’t want to fight, why do you have to be so difficult.” Seeing Peter open his mouth to reply Kevin held up a hand to shh him, “Look I’m going out and expect it done by the time I get back... I just can’t at the moment.”

Kevin strode out the room and soon after the front door slammed shut, rattling the walls.

Peter didn’t do the washing up.

He left the dishes, left the kitchen and left the flat. Swinging between buildings he asked Karen to monitor the police channels looking for something to do. Anything to still the butterflies currently attacking his stomach. It was stupid and petty. Peter knew that. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, but despite thinking this Peter couldn’t stop the knot of tension from growing.

After stopping a bike theft, catching a runaway buggy, giving directions to a few tourists and helping to unload a moving van he felt a bit better. See he was a good person. He helped people.

Back at the flat Kevin was still out, the washing up not done, and Peter was in a better mood. Turning on his cassette player that Quin had insisted on giving him as a “sorry i held you at gunpoint, were cool bro?”present, he cranked the volume up and started scrubbing dishes rhythmically. Once he made his way through the stack, he up-ended his school bag onto the kitchen table, tapping his pen to beat as he worked his way through an equation sheet. Head bobbing he past the evening lost in the music and his work before falling into bed after a quick dinner. This was good. He was okay. Look at him, thriving, he did the spiderman stuff, he did the school stuff, he eaten the food stuff, and about to do the being unconscious thing. Everything was fine.

He didn’t look at his shoulder where Kevin had grabbed him. He didn’t see the blossoming bruise or the halfmood imprints.

\---------

Peter eyes flew open struggling to focus on the figure looming above his bed. It was the same nightmare each night. He knew what was coming but that didn’t stop it. Two hands reached out towards him, clamping down on his neck. At first it was just uncomfortable, the hands clammy and sticking to his skin. Then his head started to spin and the room rocked around him. He blinked trying to clear his vision. Opening his mouth to call for help… his neck was released and a rush of heat sent him reeling as the blood returned. The relief was short as the hands returned clamped down on his mouth, pinching his nose, cutting off his air. Eyes watering Peter fumbled to bring his hands up, to try and fight, he was spiderman god damn it! Something stopped him. Weighing heavily on him. A forearm, pressing down on his neck as the figure leaned in, so that Peter could feel their breath on his face.

“You’re nothing.” The voice whispered, as Peter struggled for air.

“Nothing you hear me.” it continued, their breath smelling of warmth and of home.

“I could kill you…” and it hurt so bad, lungs cramping and contracting trying so hard to bring in air that wasn't there. He was going to die; the thought almost felt distance, like someone else's panic. 

“But I won't, not tonight.” and it was hard to tell through the spots that filled his vision, and the way the room spun but Peter felt like he knew that face, that voice…

It didn’t matter. Peter had already past out.

\--------

The next morning Peter awoke to his phone ringing, and Kevin shouting at him to shut it up. Fumbling he dropped it, struggling to pick it up, mistyping his password and missing the call. With a sigh he pulled on a hoodie, phone in pocket and stumbled towards the kitchen. Whoever was ringing this early could wait until after he'd eaten.

Pouring a bowl of cereal he nodded a good morning to Kevin, and sat down. Kevin did not look pleased.

"I thought I'd asked you to do the washing up?"

"I did." Peter said, voice strangely hoarse.

"What's that then?" Kevin said, pointing at a pile of dirty dishes on the wrong side of the sink.

"Oh." Peter was sure he'd done the washing up. He had checked, even walking around the flat to gather the mugs, made sure he'd haven't missed anything so how...?

"Don’t look at me like that. It's not like you could have forgotten. There sitting there clear as day.” Kevin spat.

But Peter had forgotten. He’d didn’t know how but he had. 

“Sorry, I’ll do it now.” he muttered, pushing his chair back.

“Good lad.” Kevin said, clapping Peter on the shoulder, briefly digging his nails in before turning to leave.

Just as Peter was turning on the tape his phone rang. He hit the answer button and attempted to weidge it between his chin and shoulder, while picking up the first dish.

“Hello?”

“And finally he answers! Seriously kid, I was about to send out the search parties.” Tony's voice echoed in his ear, uncomfortably loud.

“Sorry Mr Stark, you only called like this morning though.”

“Yeah and texted about a dozen times. You're making me feel unwanted here. Did I do something?”

“No, no no. I must have missed those.... You know busy with spiderstuff.” Quickly Peter pulled up the texted app… oh shit, how? They were all marked read, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing them, let alone typing the half finished message. 

“Sure…” Tonys sounded unconvinced “So you need a rain check for today or still good to come up the lab?”

“No no no, I’m good.” Peter said.

“Great, because Happy’s outside in the car, see you in a bit.”

“Goodbye Mr Sta-” the call cut off. 

In a matter of minutes Peter tumbled into the back of the waiting car, teeth half brushed and clothes disheveled. Thriving. Last night felt so long ago. 

Before he knew it Happy was shaking him awake. When had he fallen asleep? Oh well… wait did he finish the washing up? Peter couldn’t remember… But it was okay, he was okay.

\------------------------------------------------------

“Ah Peter good to see you…” Tony said as Peter walked into the penthouse, leading the way to the lab. 

And with that Peter was swept up in Stark's latest design for the iron-man suits, as words tumbled out of the millionaires mouth at breakneck speed as he explained all the new features and the interesting new problems they each presented. To be honest Peter was struggling to follow, hearing the words but unable to grasp the concepts, but nodding along enthusiastically anyway. Something in his expression must have tipped Tony off to Peters confusion as Tony took a breath and suggested Peter work on his webslinger, and he would update him on the suit in a bit.

Peter sank onto the stool by a worktop where the newest version of his webslingers laid disassembled. The worktop looked inviting, and oh was he tempted to just lay his head and rest for a bit. For a while the pair worked in comfortable silence before Tony turned on their usual playlist.

The noise itched at Peter's ears. The webslingers weren’t going back together right. He kept dropping the same tinny screw and couldn’t get it in straight. His shoulder hurt. His eyes itched. God damn it! And the music thumped uncomfortably loud.

“Can you shut that up!”Peter snapped in frustration, voice hoarse.

Tony looked up, startled before saying “FRIDAY music off. You alright there?”

“Sorry, yeah. Didn’t mean to shout at you. Bad brain day and this damn screw won't go in.” Peter said, throwing down the parts he was holding.

“About time for lunch anyway, what you’d fancy? I found a good place that does schwamma?” Tony offered, brushing 

“Sure.”

\------------------------------------------------------

Peter blinked. He didn’t recognise where he was. In front of him Mr Stark was looking concerned, hand held up clicking his fingers in front of his face. Looking down there was a plate of half eaten schwamma? Presumably his? 

“You with me Pete?”

“Yeah, what happened?” Peter asked, wincing at how raw his voice sounded.

“You tell me, you froze for like a good 5 seconds there.”

“I dunna…” and he didn’t, there was no memory there to find.

“You get hit in the head anytime recently?” Tony asked, brows knitting together in concern.

“Not that I remember,” Peter said smiling at the irony of that “I’ll ask Karen, when I get home.”

“Okay, if it happens again you tell me yeah. Won’t do to have spiderman blanking out mid swing”

“Sure, what were you talking about before?”

“The nanobots, I’ve been thinking of a way to incorporate them into the design, make it less bulky. You know I think that might be the answer to the blaster paradox, if I can make it less bulky than need less power so...”

Back at the lab Peter picked up his webslinger, hand trembling. Hand trembling? How much caffeine had he just consumed? Trying to recall he realised that he had no recollection of where they had gone. Had they gone out? Glancing at the clock Peter assumed that he and Tony had eaten something for lunch... he wasn’t normally a coffee person though? Oh well. With a sigh he put down the tech and rested his head on the desk. Maybe just a quick nap.

\------------------------------------------------------

Peter was not a victim. He hit back. He did more than that, he bit and kicked, and punched, and scratched, he fought dirty. He was not a victim. He was far from helpless. He was vicious, and fought fire with fire. But he was running out of things to burn and the smoke was starting to suffocate him.

“Karen..., call Mr Mr stark- or or Maaaay? just someone I- i i don’t care who.”

His nightmare had changed, it had been the same for as long as he had had it, but tonight he’d remembered. Coming to after it, soaked in sweet and finding his nose bleeding. Looking in the mirror his neck was red. It was not a nightmare he knew now. It was real.

Storming into the living room he had found Kevin sprawled on the sofa, but he jumped up to face him. The anger burnt in Peter veins, how dare this man… why… they were family? Kind of? Sure they’d been trading blows ever since they met, Peter always come off worst but this? This was wrong. This went too far. 

“Go back to bed Peter.” and the way Kevin said that, as if he was a small disobedient child and Kevin couldn't be bothered with him anymore, made Peter furious. 

“No I know what you did! I remember I fucking remember!” And he was screaming, but his voice broke, coming out as a hoarse whisper.

“I don’t know what you're talking about, now go back to bed.” Kevin said, reaching out and shoving Peter. Peter stumbled back, before regaining his footing and shoving back harder.

“NO! Don’t lie to me, you… you-” Peter's head was still spinning (it seldom stopped recently), and Kevin fist lashed out catching on his chin and sending Peter falling to the floor.

“It’s your fault I can’t remember anything anymore. Your fault I can’t… can’t think right” Peter shouted up at him 

“Don’t pin this on me, I only did what I had to to keep you in line.” Kevin said with a snarl.

Peter screamed at him, launching himself off the floor one fist catching Kevin on the arm, the other embedding into the wall. Kevin cried out, cradling his arm to his body and using his other to grab Peters hair and slam his head into the wall. Ears ringing, eyes spotted over Peter struggled to find his feet before Kevin slammed his head into the wall again, and again and again. Kevin dropped Peters watching as the boy slid down the wall, eyes glazing over.

“Shit, shit shit shit, I didn't mean to go that far. Shit” 

Peter watched numbly as Kevin rushed out of the flat. Fighting a wave of nausea he stumbled to his room, grabbing his mask from his bag. 

“Karen..., call Mr Mr stark- or or Maaaay? just someone I- i i don’t care who.”

Peter hopped that Karen could hear him without putting the mask on. He guessed he’d find out he thought as he sank down beside the bed to wait.

The sound of the front door opening pulled him from his sleep. Unsteadily he rose to his feet, furiously blinking to try and clear his vision. On seeing Tony open the bedroom door, he fell onto the man, hugging him as much for comfort as to stay up right. It was okay. He was okay… this wasn't okay.

"Hey, what happened?" Tony asked as he brought an arm up to hug back. When his hand found blood in Peter's hair he pulled back, holding Peter at arm's length searching for injuries.

Peter swayed on his feet, "I found out why I keep forgetting everything, Kevin he… he…. I- I'm… turns out getting booped on the head doesn't do your brain any good."

Tony nodded stiffly at that, eyes fixed on the fading red marks on Peter's neck. "Peter that's… fuck up like really fucked up."

"I know… but like I hurt him back it not like I'm some tragic child abuse case. I think… I I..think I might have kind of broken his arm just now.” As soon as Peter realised what he said, he stumbled back out of Tony's grasp. Shame threatened to swallow him, how could he have done that? He was meant to be better than that.

“Kid?” Tony reached out an arm as if to pull Peter into another hug before settling for an awkward shoulder tap, “that- that doesn't make what he did any…. better.”

“But I started some of the fights.” Peter said, looking up at Tony with tears in his eyes that he furiously whipped away. Why didn’t Tony understand? He was one of the bad guys here, he’d hurt Kevin.

“Doesn't change a thing, doesn't make you any less of the victim here.” And Tony said that with such certainty that Peter almost believed him.

_Victim?_

He was _not_ a victim. Atleast he didn't see himself as one. He fought back. He'd started the fight today, so surely?… Peter wasn't sure what to think. He didn't want to be a victim but this wasn't okay. Maybe…

"Come on, time to go" Tony said, an arm still wrapped around Peter's shoulder, leading him out of the apartment. Peter lent into the man's side, closing his eyes as they walked. His shoulder hurt, his head hurt, his head hurt so fucking much. Peter tried and failed not to look in the hallway where there were two indents in the wall. One from his fist, one from his head. The wallpaper had torn, the plaster cracked and the insulation was poking through dotted with red. 

Maybe… maybe sometimes victims fought back. Just sometimes... And whatever this was, it wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay. So maybe… maybe he was a victum?

But he was going to be okay.  
It would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, What u thing? It be a mess ja?
> 
> Can't say I'm entirely happy with it, especially the ending, but i lack the patience and skill to write a better aftermass. Mostly just wanted to explore/show how the violence doesn't have to be one sided and how this links with the denial of abuse/being a victum of abuse.


End file.
